


Room 1135 at NBC

by crackerscheese



Category: Colbert Report RPF, Fake News RPF, Late Night Host RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Major Acronym Meaning Changes, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackerscheese/pseuds/crackerscheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Late Night War of 2010 if it had taken place in a world where all late night hosts were in institutions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wingtip shoes graced the floor of the dimly lit empty hall, their squeaking the only sound echoing for miles around. The man wearing the shoes walked with purpose, his green eyes, protected by clear glasses, staring straight ahead unwaveringly. The edges of his white coat almost dipped into a puddle of an unknown liquid that was quickly spreading across the floor. He didn’t pause for a second, knowing that the cleaning staff will get to the mess eventually.

That was one of the downsides to working in a mental institution. You couldn’t know what you going to step on on any given day. He’s stepped in juice, blood, urine, and worse during the twenty-four years he’s worked at the institution. Ahead, an overhead light crackled and blew out just as anguished screams echoed from the floors above. The man rounded the corner to a more brightly lit hallway, and the screams abruptly cut off. _Thank god for orderlies_ , the man thought as he walked out to the lobby of the building.

The lobby was vastly different from the hallways branching out from it. For one, it was far from plain. Various paintings were hung along the walls and the hanging lights cast a small spotlight on the six seats that created a small half circle around a small coffee table in a corner. The table was littered with various outdated magazines, since there hasn’t been visitors at the hospital for a while. But there was one tonight, and he was pestering the receptionist over the front desk.

The receptionist, Natalie, was saying, “Please, mister, it's after visiting hours, may I ask you to leave—”

“I was personally asked here, by the Head Psychiatrist himself!” the visitor proclaimed. “If I don’t see him in five minutes I have half a mind to—”

The visitor didn’t finish his threat because the man decided to intervene. “Hello, sorry I’m late,” the man smirked, satisfied that he got his visitor so riled up. In fact, the visitor whipped his head towards him so fast he probably got whiplash.

“Well that’s less than five minutes,” the visitor conceded, talking half to himself and half to Natalie before addressing his host. “Dr. Zucker.”

“Dr. Richter.” Dr. Zucker’s smirk turned into a smile as he eyed his guest. 

“Please, call me Andy,” Dr. Richter said kindly.

Unfortunately, Dr. Zucker wasn’t willing to return the favor. “Come with me, Andy,” he said, adding the last bit as an afterthought. Andy shared a confused glance with Natalie before following Dr. Zucker back around the corner he came from, and back into the darkness.

 

Dr. Zucker walked in long strides down the hall, and Andy struggled to keep up, mostly because of his shorter legs and the fact that Dr. Zucker was in better shape than he was. Nevertheless, Andy tried to keep pace, and when his struggling caught Dr. Zucker's attention Zucker decided to shorten his stride.

"Why did you ask me to be here?" Andy asked, slightly out of breath. "After hours, no less?"

Zucker's focus on the hall ahead wavered as he gave Dr. Richter a sidelong glance. All of the sudden he looked worried. If this didn't work out he and all the other doctors will have start back from square one, and he didn't think they could with the time they had left. "There's a patient you've dealt with before that is about to be moved to a new room and I was hoping you would go through his file and see if he's ready for that transition."

Andy raised a blond eyebrow. "I haven't worked here for eight years," he said, chuckling in disbelief, "why do you need my advice now?" Dr. Zucker abruptly stopped, finally arriving at his destination. Andy bumped into him from behind, and when he peeked around Zucker's taller form and stared up at the door of Dr. Zucker's office.

Unfortunately the door was a bit worse for wear. The door was made up of mostly rotting wood, it has been in the same spot since the hospital opened in 1926. There was a small window high up on the door, more for letting light in than for seeing through it. The window was protected by several rusting black bars that formed a grille on both sides of the door, probably for when an unruly patient tried to break in or out they couldn't harm themselves by breaking the glass. Etched below the window, in peeling faded gold letters, was the title HEAD PSYCHIATRIST.

Dr. Zucker opened the door and Andy winced at the creaking the action created, taking a look around the once familiar office. It was one of the biggest offices in the whole building but it was still a bit small. A wooden desk took up the most space in the room, and despite the worn out corners and scratched out lines that covered it the desk was by far the nicest looking object in the room. The swivel chair behind it seemed pretty okay except that it was permanently stuck on being the shortest it could possibly be, a fact Dr. Zucker despised because of his tall stature. There was no computer to be seen because all of its duties was carried out by the filing cabinet that was gathering dust in the corner. The waste bin was full of tissues used by the relatives of patient that sat on the several worn out chairs that were in front of the desk. That and the overall dark and dusty atmosphere did not make the place feel like the sterile, technologically advanced doctor offices that were around these days.

Dr. Zucker avoided sitting at his chair, which made his back ache like hell afterwards, and went straight for the filing cabinet which housed all of their patient files, past and present. "This patient has been here a long time, and we don't want to set back his progress because we did something he wasn't ready for. We just need to cover all of the bases, that's all," he explained as he opened the third cabinet, which was labeled M-S. 

"Who is the patient?" Andy inquired. It seemed if Dr. Zucker was going through this much trouble figuring out if this patient was ready for a simple transition that this patient must be important. And Dr. Richter only worked with a few patients before he left back in 2000, so at least that narrow it down a bit.

Zucker swiftly pulled out a file out of the bunch that crowded the cabinet and dropped it on the desk facing Andy. Andy leaned on desk to pick it up and get a better look at the file, wary of chairs that he swore he saw a few termites drill holes through. He took one glance at the label of the file, which read O'BRIEN, CONAN.

"He's still here?" Andy asked, surprised, as he quickly flipped through the file, skipping all the parts he's seen before and even written. "How is he doing?"

"He's improved dramatically since you left and was replaced by Dr. Max Weinberg," Dr. Zucker told him. "He's becoming lucid for more than a few minutes each week, I really think he's breaking from his delusions."

"That's nice," Andy said distractedly, preoccupied with reading a report in Dr. Weinberg's messy scrawl. "Which room are you considering moving him to?"

Dr. Zucker smiled, knowing the answer would be a surprising one. "Room 1135."

"What?" Andy exclaimed, dropping the file he was holding and letting the papers that were previously confined in it flutter to the ground.

Room 1135 had a turbulent history at North Berkeley County Psychiatric Hospital, or as everyone likes to shorten it to, NBC. Since the fifties, there were several people who for some reason suffered delusions that caused them to believe that they were late night television hosts. The first known case of the delusion happened to a patient called Steve Allen, who was admitted to the NBC in 1954. He was placed in Room 1135 until a patient named Jack Parr with a similar delusion was moved there in 1957. For some reason they both believed they hosted the same show, _The Tonight Show_ , while they were housed in the room. The same thing happened to Johnny Carson, who was in Room 1135 from 1962 to 1992, the longest a patient ever was in the room. 

In 1992, however, there were two patients that had the delusion, Jay Leno and David Letterman. Mr. Letterman lived in the room right above 1135, Room 1235 while Mr. Leno was a new admittee. It was a hard decision, but in the end the doctors decided that Jay was to be placed in the room. This caused Mr. Letterman's and Mr. Leno's budding relationship to be damaged forever because within the delusion, Room 1135 was a prestigious honour, even called the best show in late night, and Mr. Letterman believed that he was heir to the Room 1135 throne. Due to Mr. Leno's and Mr. Letterman's growing hostility to each other they transferred Mr. Letterman out to Columbia Beach State Hospital, or CBS. After Mr. Letterman’s removal, Mr. O’Brien was admitted and was placed in Mr. Letterman’s room, Room 1235, which was also a room where they put people who suffer under the delusion of being a late night host. 

Andy didn’t think the current arrangement would change anytime soon, but now it looks like he was wrong. But even though he left NBC eight years ago Andy has made sure he’s heard the latest news involving his former employer and he wasn’t completely sure that Conan or even Jay was ready for the transition. “You sure Jay’s up for this?” Andy asked, getting on his knees and collecting the papers on the floor. Dr. Zucker answered by opening the second drawer of the filing cabinet and pulling out a file. He placed it on his desk and Andy stood up to look at it. It was labelled as LENO, JAY.

“This is all you need to know about Mr. Leno,” Zucker said. As Andy quickly scanned the most recent weekly reports from the pile of papers that accumulated during Jay’s 16-year stay at NBC Dr. Zucker continued. “All recent reports state that Mr. Leno is doing much better nowadays, and is lucid more often than not. We have decided that he is fit to be released from NBC.”

"Released? As in he's cured?" Andy stopped flipping through Jay's file and looked up at Dr. Zucker with interest.

"As far as we know, yes," Zucker grinned as he shared the good news. "We're going to have routine check-ups on him after he's released, but we're sure he's cured."

Andy set Jay's file aside and eyed Conan's again and while he was preoccupied, Zucker decided to again ask Andy of his favour. "If you can just okay Mr. O’Brien's transfer then we'll part ways—"

"Actually, I want to observe Conan for a while," Andy interrupted, grabbing the two files and standing up. "To see if he's really to move. A detailed report sometimes doesn't tell all of the facts, you know?" Andy said causally.

Dr. Zucker looked mildly annoyed at the possibility of having yet another doctor walking down the busy halls of NBC. He was irritated enough to try to protest, but Andy interrupted him before he got started.

"Sorry I have to go, see you tomorrow," Andy said in a rush, in a hurry to get out of the room. As soon as he raced out and closed the rotting door he clutched the two files to his chest and ran like the wind down the hall, creating a storm of noise in the once silent hallway. He didn’t really care how many patients’ good night sleeps he disturbed, he was eager to catch up on his former patient.

 

Night had fallen when Andy opened the door to his apartment. It was pretty small, but it was nice enough for how much Andy paid for it. After he left NBC he went to work at Foxdale Mental Health Center, or FOX, in hopes of becoming Head Psychiatrist one day. It didn’t work out, and now he’s an assistant to a doctor he’s sure that they doesn’t know what they’re doing. All in all, it’s worse than his NBC job, and it pays less too. So Andy was relieved when he got a phone call from Dr. Zucker, it was a relief to hear from NBC again. 

He hung up his coat in the closet right in front of his entryway. He carelessly threw the files onto the couch as he passed through his living room to his kitchen. He started up his coffee machine and started to prepare a sandwich, knowing he had a long night ahead of him. Armed with a steaming cup of coffee and a delicious sandwich he collected the files and walked across his small dining room to his second bedroom, which he turned into a in-home office.

He placed his files at the edge of the wooden desk, flipping the switch on his desk lamp, which created a pool of light on the center of the desk, which was covered by a desk calendar for the year 2008. In one sweep, he cleared his desk of all unnecessary clutter before putting Conan’s file in the light. He then started to empty the file, reading all the reports contained inside, even the ones he’s read before, so he can have a clear picture on Conan’s current mental health. 

Conan O'Brien was admitted to North Berkeley County Psychiatric Hospital in 1983 after having a breakdown in college. A friend of his came to check up on him because Conan was absent for a _Harvard Lampoon_ meeting, which he was always present for since he was president. The friend opened the door to Conan's dorm to find the room in a mess and Conan was in the center of it, in a near-catatonic state.

He refused to let anyone touch him without screaming and throwing his arms and legs like a pinwheel, effectively distancing himself from anyone who tried to reach him. The President of Harvard resorted to call his parents to ask that they help with getting Conan off the grounds. A tearful Ruth O'Brien immediately called one of the best mental institutions in America, NBC. It took five orderlies to drag the protesting soon-to-be mental patient off the Harvard premises, and Conan has been at NBC ever since.

The first few years at NBC were hard for Conan. At first Conan was catatonic most of the time, he was unresponsive to most of the tests the doctors tried. They concluded that he was probably this way because he was in an unfamiliar environment, but the doctors struggled to find a way to make Conan feel more comfortable. Andy was a doctor for another patient at the time, and he happened to overhear Conan's doctors' troubles during the lunch breaks they all shared. Andy decided to check the Conan guy out in his free time.

Andy skipped out on his lunch to go over to Room 1235, the room where Conan was staying in. It turned out that Conan really liked him, and he made Andy the first person at NBC he included in his delusion, which then was in its early stages. Ever since that breakthrough, Conan became more delusional and Andy was made his head doctor. Over the next few years Conan's mental state stabilized and Andy began to think about moving on. Conan seemed to be getting better but it seemed to Andy that he didn't have to be there for that to happen. So, in the year 2000, he filed his resignation papers and left.

Judging from the reports filed after his resignation, Andy's departure devastated Conan mentally, so much so that he began going in a downward spiral which Conan perceived as himself rising to be a late night star. What was actually happening was that Conan was getting completely absorbed in his delusions, and they had triple his original medicine dosage to get him back to earth. Overall, he wasn't the best candidate for a room transfer, especially for Room 1135.

Room 1135 was one of the more luxurious rooms, it was the second biggest and the least padded room in NBC. It was for patients who were near the end of the road of recovery but who needed a little boost to the finish line. For Room 1135 patients the NBC doctors create a special cocktail of drugs that instead of stabilizing their mental state worked to cure their disease and to help the patients achieve complete lucidity. As they do this the drugs cause the patients to have a sense of immense euphoria, which causes them to believe that hosting _The Tonight Show_ has made them the happiest they have ever been.

Andy closed Conan O'Brien's file with a sigh and checked his wall clock for the time. Seeing it was nearing one o'clock in the morning Andy decided to put off reading Leno's file until later. He had to walk up early to see Conan at NBC tomorrow, and he’s definitely not going to be sleep deprived. He quickly prepared himself for bed and walked to his bedroom, which was right next to his home office. As Andy pulled his bed covers over his head he reflected that it would be nice to see Conan after being years apart, even though he was beginning to be concerned about the circumstances that allowed for him to return to NBC.

This transfer of patients—Conan to Room 1135, Jay being released, and the new patient that was going to be moved to Room 1235 after Conan’s departure—will be one of the most historic transitions at NBC ever since the Leno-Letterman fiasco. Andy had a feeling that both Conan and Jay weren’t at all ready for the change, but what did he know? He hasn’t even worked at NBC for almost a decade.

What Andy didn’t know was that he was right—and the resulting disaster of the patient transfer will change the lives of everyone who was involved forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Andy woke up thirty minutes earlier than normal the next day. He had to go to NBC early to see if Dr. Zucker had any more information about Conan’s condition. He took a quick shower and dug through his closet and found a clean blue shirt and a navy blue tie to wear with his black pants. He took out his FOX official white coat to wear because he handed back his NBC one back years ago. As he made breakfast he phoned FOX to tell them he’s taking a day off and after he was done he was out the door.

When he arrived at NBC twenty minutes later, he noticed it was more busy than last night. The previously gloomy empty hallways were now full of doctors rushing to and from various places, some wheeling patients in wheelchairs while others carried bundles of files. All of them seemed to be busy so Andy weaved through the crowd to find the familiar path to the Head Psychiatrist’s office. The hallways were considerably brighter than yesterday, each light bulb glowing white light along the freshly painted white corridors.

Before Andy could reach his destination, a voice called out, “Andy!” and a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. The hand spun him around and Andy was greeted with the face of Dr. Max Weinberg, Conan’s doctor. Max’s eyes were covered by glasses, and he wearing a purple shirt over a lighter purple tie. Over that was his NBC white coat, with NBC’s symbol, a colorful peacock, above where the name DR. MAX WEINBERG was beside the coat's left lapel.

“I thought you quit! What brings you back?” Max asked, smiling.

“Dr. Zucker asked me to come back and check up on Conan, see if he’s ready for Room 1135,” Andy explained, and Max looked relieved.

“Oh good,” Max said. “I thought Conan might not want to be around the doctor Zucker said he’ll send us, but Conan will definitely want to see you again.” Suddenly Max grabbed Andy’s arm and dragged Andy in the direction he came from, which was away from Dr. Zucker’s office. 

“I need to see Dr. Zucker!” Andy exclaimed as Max brought them nearer to the elevador. 

“No you don’t,” Max said as they arrived at the elevator. “I know you were going to ask him if he has any other info and he doesn’t, trust me.” He punched the up arrow beside the elevator. “The person you need to see right now is Conan, he’s been a wreck without you.” Max dragged Andy inside the elevator and pushed the button for the 12th floor.

The NBC Psychiatric Hospital has twelve floors and each floor was divided into two sections, A.M. and P.M., and there were sixty rooms in each section. Conan’s room was in the latter section, and Max and Andy had to pass most of the rooms in the floor to reach his, Room 1235 P.M. When they arrived, Andy glanced at the golden sign that was hung beside the door which said: ROOM 1235 P.M. and underneath that was PATIENT CONAN O’BRIEN.

Max went through the door easily, but Andy paused, suddenly feeling anxious at the thought of seeing Conan again. He didn’t know how Conan was going to react to his visit, since in Conan’s delusion he was Conan’s ex-sidekick and Andy wondered if Conan would recognize him after being out of his delusion for years. 

Hoping for the best, Andy opened the door to find Max in the middle of injecting Conan’s arm with a drug of some sort. When Max was finished Conan slumped in a sitting position on his white bed. His bedcovers were white, so was the mattress he sat on and the entire padded room around them. It was almost too white, so Andy squinted a bit as he asked Max, “What drug did you use there?”

“The same we always use, why?” Max questioned, and Andy’s eyebrow rose. Andy remembered the amount of the drug was in the needle and a quick glance at the syringe proved his theory.

“That was triple the normal dose!” Andy accused and Max lowered his head, guilty.

“I know, but the normal amount doesn’t calm him down enough,” Max explained vaguely, intentionally not telling Andy that even the extra dosage doesn’t help much anymore. Unfortunately, Andy found out without Max’s help. Andy squatted to meet Conan’s eyes, which were downcast and glassy, and frowned.

“He’s still nowhere near lucidity,” Andy noticed in amazement, now wondering the verity of the reports he poured over last night. Max nodded and frowned behind him.

“I know,” Max said grimly, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it any more. Andy decided to let go of it for now and stood up. He walked over to Conan, who didn’t seem to notice Andy approaching him. Max, noticing this, said, “Hey Conan, look who it is,” and at the sound of Max’s voice he looked up. 

Conan O’Brien's most prominent feature was his ginger hair, which was in its signature style, its pouf higher than Andy had last seen it. Freckles littered his pale face, and his blue eyes were filled with excitement when they recognised Andy's face.

"Andy!" Conan cried out, and immediately tried to hug him but instead made the both of them fall on Conan’s bed. Conan latched onto Andy, and from the way Conan clinged to him, hands clutching Andy sides and Conan’s bright red head on his chest, Andy swore Conan was deliberately in this position so he could listen to Andy’s heartbeat. It made Andy happy that he saw Conan again and that he was greeted with so much joy. He wondered why he didn’t visit Conan earlier.

Suddenly the moment was over when Conan abruptly pushed himself away from Andy, making Andy almost fall off the bed. Conan scrambled backwards to sit in a cross-legged position near the head of bed, leaving some space for Andy sit on the edge of the mattress. Conan grinned widely at Andy before he asked a long series of questions. “How’s life in Los Angeles? Have you gotten work lately? Why don’t you visit more often?”

Andy responded to the sudden onslaught of questions with, “Uhhh...”

“He gets a little hyperactive after he gets his medicine,” Max explained. 

“That’s okay,” Andy said. He has dealt with a jittery Conan before.

“Hey, I know what we can do!” Conan exclaimed, his unanswered questions forgotten. “We can visit Stephen and Jon!”

“That’s a great idea!” Max agreed enthusiastically, and got started on getting Conan in his wheelchair. Andy was confused, Conan never really interacted with any patients before he left. His confusion must have shown on his face because Max whispered, “I’ll explain later,” as he passed by. 

When Conan was in his wheelchair and they were all out of his room Andy turned to Max, who was pushing Conan along, and whispered, “Who are Jon and Stephen?”

“Stephen Colbert is a patient of the CC ward and Jon Stewart is his doctor,” Max explained. The CC ward was the nickname of the Constant Care ward on the 11th floor. It was for patients who needed around the clock observation. “Stephen has multiple personality disorder. The ones that have appeared while he was with Conan are himself plus one we call “Stephen Colbert" in quotes, and sometimes we see Esteban Colberto.”

“Why are you letting Conan interact with him in the first place?” Andy wondered as they entered the elevator. Conan started to hum a song when it came apparent that none of the doctors were going to talk to him. 

"It was an experiment," Max said as the elevator moved them down a level. "Dr. Zucker wanted to see how Conan was around other people." They all got out of the elevator and went down a hallway that led to the CC ward.

They went into a room that looked like a playroom. There were short bookshelves that surrounded a few small tables that various small toys were littered upon. There sat Stephen Colbert, his brown hair gelled to perfection and his glasses protecting his brown eyes from harm. Beside him was Dr. Stewart with his graying hair and his blue eyes. Conan’s entrance caught Stephen’s eye and he growled, “You got a lot of nerve coming back here, O’Brien.”

Andy began to ask “What the hell is he talking ab—” when Jon dragged him to a corner of the room, a bit out of Stephen and Conan’s earshot. “Hey! What was that about?” he asked Jon grumpily.

“I didn’t want to disturb them,” Jon explained. “I’ve been recording their interactions for a few months now, since the beginning of the year.” He handed Andy a folder of reports, all about Stephen’s and Conan’s meetings. “Stephen was talking about a small fight they had back in January over Huck, which is a toy bee. They called it Huckabee for some reason.” 

Andy looked over Jon’s notes for their patients’ meetings during the first two months of 2008. “It seems like it got pretty intense,” he observed as he read about the fight that broke out on February 4th. The fight got so bad that Jon had to intervene.

Andy skipped through the reports of the rest of the meetings and read more about Stephen himself. Stephen was a young journalist before a particularly tragic event unleashed his various other personalities. “Stephen Colbert”, the personality Stephen seemed to be now, was described as highly erratic, and Dr. Stewart described him on paper as a well-intentioned, poorly informed, high status idiot. He didn’t seem to be the best thing to counteract Conan’s behavior since Conan was a bit erratic himself. Wouldn’t this set back Conan’s progress to sanity?

When Andy pointed this out, Max mumbled, “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Who Conan interacted with was a big deal for there to short road to Conan’s recovery, and Andy knew Max knew this. So Andy knew he must be missing something, something big if it caused Max not to care whether Conan was affected negatively by Stephen presence. Jon looked away from Andy entirely, so it seemed that he was in on it too. “What’s going on?” Andy demanded Max, the one who would break the easiest. “What don’t I know?”

“The reports are lies!” Max blurted out after a few seconds of tense silence. 

“What?” Andy exclaimed loudly, startling Stephen and Conan, who were in a middle of a conversation across the room. Seeing that they were disturbing them, Jon led Max and Andy out into the hall after making sure it was vacant of potential eavesdroppers. “What?” Andy repeated, making sure to be more quiet this time.

“I’ve been lying on Conan weekly reports,” Max explained.

Andy raised an eyebrow. “For how long?”

Max suddenly found the floor tiles to be extremely interesting. “For about four years now,” he answered hesitantly.

Andy stepped away from Max, surprised that he would lie in his reports, especially for so long. “Why Max? Why would you do such a thing?”

Max suddenly looked at Andy, determination in his eyes. “I had to, Andy.”

Andy glared back at Max, fury in his eyes. “What you’re telling me, Max, is that Conan is in a worse condition that your reports said, which was already pretty bad. I’m afraid Conan can’t go to Room 1135 if he stays this way.”

“Conan has to go to Room 1135!” Jon protested.

Andy didn't bother to turn to Jon. "I can't believe you helped Max cover this up," he said, disappointment apparent in his voice.

"I did it for Conan," Jon stated. 

Andy couldn’t believe he could be more angry at this guy. “You did it for _Conan_?” he repeated, incredulous. What Jon and Max actually made it harder for Conan to ever be cured, now no one can tell which part of Max’s reports are true or not. “How can these lies help him?” Andy was full of seething rage at the both of them for hurting Conan this way. He can’t believe he had actually called Max a friend.

“Conan’s sick, Andy,” Jon said. Before Andy could snarkily respond with “I know, and you’ve helped keep it that way,” Jon continued. “And nothing has been helping. The drugs that were helping when you were around aren’t working. In fact, I think they’re making the sickness worse.”

Andy stared at Jon for while, letting the information sink in. “You’re saying,” Andy eventually said slowly, “that the recommended treatment wasn’t working at all?”

“Not even if we doubled or even tripled the recommended dose,” Max added.

“You could’ve killed him!” Andy exclaimed and Max shrugged.

“We did what we had to do,” he justified.

“In 2004 Max tried to get Dr. Zucker to change Conan’s drugs to something stronger but he refused,” Jon said. “That’s when he started to fake Conan’s reports.”

“Why then?” Andy asked.

“In 2004 Dr. Zucker announced that Conan will move to Room 1135 in 2009, if he’s up for it,” Max explained.

“Why would he do that?” Andy said in disbelief. That was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard and he’s heard a lot of stupid things from patients during his job as a psychiatrist. Max and Jon shrugged.

Jon said, “Anyway, Max started to make Conan seem better than he was so he can get to Room 1135—”

“Why?” Andy asked.

“Room 1135 has stronger drugs and a better treatment than what Conan is getting,” Max said. “We think that the change in treatment will help Conan.”

“But seriously, why go through all that trouble?” Andy asked, genuinely curious. “You could’ve told Dr. Zucker the truth, I bet he would’ve understood and made the changes necessary.”

Max shook his head vehemently. “Getting another treatment is expensive. Zucker would have rather thrown Conan out of NBC than pay for it.”

Andy’s face whitened. He couldn’t believe that Conan was so sick that Zucker would claim that he was a lost cause. It would’ve be difficult to get admitted to another hospital with an allegation like that hanging over Conan’s head. Andy could see why Max went to through so much trouble to ensure that Conan won’t be left on the street but Dr. Zucker has to know about this sooner or later. And it would be extremely better if they told him rather than Zucker figuring it out himself. Then their jobs would possibly on the line.

“I have to tell Dr. Zucker about this,” Andy concluded. 

“What?” Jon and Max exclaimed simultaneously.

“You don’t want him to figure this out on his own, don’t you? He could fire you!” Andy said. “Plus, it wouldn’t be fair if he continued with the Room 1135 transfer without knowledge of this.”

Jon sighed, resigned. “Fine, do what you have to do. Just don’t mention us, alright? I don’t want to lose my job.” Max nodded at that, and Andy agreed that he would keep their identities secret. 

Jon and Max went back into the playroom but Andy stayed outside, thinking. He couldn’t believe all of this happened when he was gone. It seemed like Conan going to Room 1135 will either be his sole savior or a huge mistake. It was time to visit the one person who will ultimately decide Conan’s fate.

 

After NBC closed that night Andy made his way to Dr. Zucker’s office. The light filtering from within his office created a pool of light that made the door to Zucker’s office easy to see in the darkened hallway. Andy entered warily, not bothering to knock because he knew Zucker wouldn’t hear it anyway, he would be too engrossed in his work.

“Dr. Zucker, I have to talk to you about Conan,” Andy began hesitantly.

Dr. Zucker looked up from the pile of papers on his desk, reading glasses on his nose. “Oh, finally giving your consent to Mr. O’Brien’s transfer right?”

“Uh...no,” Andy said and Dr. Zucker groaned. “But I think you have to know something before the transfer occurs...”

Andy took a deep breath and was about to tell Zucker Max’s secret when Dr. Zucker said, “Are you going to tell me about Dr. Weinberg lying in his reports it’s okay, I already know.”

Andy looked at Dr. Zucker in astonishment. “How?”

“I’ve seen Mr. O’Brien before, Andy. His state of mind is nothing like what is said in his reports.”

Andy nodded, understanding, until a question came to mind. “Then why did you refuse to change his treatment?” 

“His treatment will automatically be changed when he goes to Room 1135,” Dr. Zucker explained coolly.

“But his treatment can be changed to the one of Room 1135’s without him moving there,” Andy said. “Why do you need Conan in Room 1135?”

Dr. Zucker sighed. “In 2004 I made a promise to Mr. O’Brien’s mother that I would have him ready for Room 1135 in 2009.”

Andy stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“She threatened to withdraw Mr. O’Brien from the hospital! That type of thing would have ruined our reputation! What was I supposed to do?” Dr. Zucker said defensively.

Andy said, “Surely you can tell Conan’s mom that he’s still ill and that he needs to stay at Room 1235 for a while longer...”

“No, I can’t,” Dr. Zucker said, mostly to himself. “We have to carry on with the plan.”

“But how about Jay? Is he really ready to released? Is Conan ready for this transfer after sixteen years of being in Room 1235? What about if Room 1135’s drugs don’t work?” asked Andy.

“We have to see the plan through,” Dr. Zucker said with conviction.

“But so much can go wrong!” Andy exclaimed. “These are people’s life at stake here, Zucker! If this move is a mistake, it could have severe consequences.” Andy tried to convince Zucker to tread a bit more lightly with the decision, but Zucker didn’t want to hear it.

“We’ll. See. It. Through,” Dr. Zucker ground out from clenched teeth, angered at the fact that Andy challenged him on his decision. “Let’s face it, there’s no turning back now.”

“I guess so,” Andy muttered, resigned, and Zucker grinned, glad that Andy was on his side, for now. Dr. Zucker patted Andy’s back and shoved him in the direction of the door.

“Look, everything will be alright, okay?” Dr. Zucker said reassuringly. “Jay will get out, Conan will move in, a new patient will go to Room 1235 and it’ll be fine. Trust me.”

As Andy walked down the hallway towards NBC’s lobby, a light occasionally flickering above him, a deep sense of foreboding overcame him. He knew this transfer may not be the best move to make, but it was happening anyway, so he’ll have to make the best of it. One thing that may soothe his worries is that Jay is actually fit for release. He’ll have to talk to Jay tomorrow, but the fact that he might be cured made Andy excited. He’s never seen someone cured of the delusion of being a late night host, all of the previous patients died still ill and Conan was still sick. As Andy walked out of NBC and into the crisp December air, he had a sickening feeling that maybe, because of the transfer he’ll never see Conan cured.


	3. Chapter 3

When Andy went into NBC the next afternoon he feared the worst. After hearing about Dr. Zucker’s motivations for making the move he knew the probability of Jay not being ready to be released were high. But he’ll give Zucker the benefit of the doubt concerning Jay because Andy didn’t know Jay well enough to know whether or not he has recovered fully. But he’ll will see Jay before he signs to make sure that Jay isn’t still too far gone. 

As soon as Andy passed through NBC’s glass front door he made a beeline for Natalie, the receptionist. Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Visiting three times in one week, eh? It’s like you work here.”

“I don’t,” Andy answered quickly as Natalie handed him a visitor's pass. “Well, not now anyway.” He glanced at the clock behind the receptionist’s desk; it read 1:49. Dr. Kevin Eubanks, Jay’s doctor, probably was at lunch right now, and that’s why he came around at this time. He wasn’t actually allowed to Jay alone, but he wanted to keep their conservation private. He might as well come by when his doctor wasn’t around so he can get this done as easily as possible. But he had to be certain Eubanks was gone first.

“Um, Natalie? Could you please check and see where Dr. Eubanks is at the moment? I wanted to talk to him for a bit,” Andy asked politely. 

“Sure,” Natalie said, smiling, as she turned on the computer that was in front of her. A few short seconds of her typing opened up the file that contained Eubank’s daily schedule. After scrolling down a few pages Natale’s bright smile turned into a frown as she read what was on her screen. She turned back to Andy, her short black curls bouncing from the movement. “Sorry, Andy, but Dr. Eubanks is on his lunch break at the moment. I’m sure if you wait in the lobby for a few minutes he’ll—”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Andy interrupted. “I’ll just hang out with Max and see Conan for a while. Maybe I’ll catch him in the hallway after that.” When he was sure Natalie’s smile was back on her lips Andy quickly turned away and headed down the hallway, surprised that he could lie through his teeth so easily.

 

When the elevator came Andy pressed the button for the 11th floor. As soon as he’d completed his ascent Andy quickly walked passed the rooms that filled the floor and went directly to Room 1135, one of most famous(or infamous, depending on who you talk to) rooms at NBC. He hesitated before he knocked, unsure of the state he’ll find Jay in. Knowing that the clock was ticking, Andy glanced down both directions of the hallway, looking for lurking spectators. They were surprisingly few compared to the dozens that would have been zipping up and down the hallway on the 12th floor. After making sure he had no witnesses Andy knocked on the door and went inside.

Jay’s room was vastly different than Conan’s. Room 1135 was one of the only patient rooms at NBC that was an actual room. The walls were bare and there were no padded things in sight. The bed’s mattress was softer to the touch than the normal mattresses, which were as hard as a rock. But the biggest luxury the room provides isn’t the room itself, it’s the clothes you could wear. A normal patient wears a loose green gown that generally reaches the ankles plus some slippers that bear the NBC logo. What Jay wears is drastically different—he wears a variation of his favorite outfit, a blue denim shirt and jeans. He still wears the slippers, though.

It didn’t matter because overall, Jay’s room looked like a normal bedroom. The stark contrasts between Jay’s and Conan’s room was glaringly obvious, so much so that Andy began to worry if Conan can handle a big adjustment like this. He put the thought at the back of his mind to think about later as he turned to Jay.

“Hey Kevin, I’m just about ready— Oh, hi Andy,” Jay said as he finished lacing up his boots. Jay Leno hadn’t changed much since the last time Andy saw him eight years ago. He still had black eyebrows despite his graying hair and he still had his infamous large chin. The only difference Andy could see was that there was less black hair on his head than in 2000, and there wasn’t much hair back then either. So as far as physical appearances go, he was the same old Jay. Andy wondered if something changed mentally.

“Hello Jay, how’s everything?” Andy asked.

“Everything’s just fine,” Jay said as he stood up, his mattress creaking from the release of his weight. “Look, I know you’re here because you want to see if I’m fit to be released.”

“You do?” Andy asked, genuinely surprised. This was the first time he has heard that Jay knew he was in a mental hospital. Maybe he is ready to be released.

“Yes, and I want to talk about it. Wanna go for a walk? Kevin was about to take me on one after lunch but he seems to be late,” Jay muttered, glancing at his watch. Andy’s eyes widened; he was astonished that Kevin trusted Jay enough to give him a potentially dangerous object like a watch.

“Sure, I’ll love to go,” said Andy. He was curious to see how many freedoms Jay had. 

“Good,” Jay said as he made his way to the door. He stopped by a coat rack, another potentially dangerous thing Jay owned, and grabbed his leather jacket before opened the door wide. He didn’t through the door though. “Ladies first,” Leno joked.

Andy rolled his eyes, used to his jokes. Before he was admitted in NBC, Jay was promising stand-up comedian. He would have had an actual late night show if he didn’t have a breakdown shortly after achieving national fame. He was one of the few celebrities that were admitted to NBC, and that played a big role in the decision to give him Room 1135 instead of Letterman. They wanted him to recover quickly so he’ll improve their reputation. It looks like that failed.

Andy walked through the door before Jay did, but Jay led the way down the hallway and down the barely used stairs. Their feet clattering down the stairwell created echos that Andy had to bear until they reached the end of the ten flights of stairs to the first floor. Then Jay opened a glass door that was opposite of the one that led out into the rooms of the first floor. Andy went through the door to find out that it went directly outside.

Back in the early 1900’s NBC was the first major mental hospital known for its lush meditation garden in its backyard. A stone path guided the way through overhanging trees and rocks in various shapes and sizes. Butterfly stone crops in full bloom littered the garden, and further along the path the cranesbill plants’ leaves were a vivid red-orange. Growing in between the stones that formed the path were barren strawberries that bloom yellow flowers in the spring. Not all plant life was confined to flow of the path. Farther away from the path grew some christmas ferns. Lavender and rosemary were lined up against NBC’s walls.

Walking through the garden was like walking through another world for Andy, who had never been there. Not many people have, it has been ages since a patient has been qualified to go the gardens and actually wanted to. Jay was apparently one of the few that did, since he led the way through the path with ease. No one else was here at the moment, and the absence of chatter allowed Andy to hear the sound of birds chirping above him. 

Jay and Andy turned around the corner to find that the path ended abruptly. That didn’t bother Andy, who was busy marveling in another sight. In front of him was a large pond. Surrounding the pond were some medium-sized rocks, and pebbles lined the floor of pond. Blue-striped and orange fish flitted about under the water, and water lilies floated across the surface.

Safely away from the edge of the pond was a typical park bench. Beside it was a large oak tree that provided enough shade to cover the entire bench. That was where Jay led Andy after he got a good look at the pond. Jay plopped down on one side of the bench and motioned for Andy to join him. Andy sat down, and as he gazed out at the pond, he realized how relaxing the sight was. It made him forget about all of his worries, except for the one that brought him here in the first place.

“You sure you’re ready to be released?” Andy asked as the wind picked up. It whipped his short blond hair around his forehead. 

“Of course I am!” Jay exclaimed, the wind whipping his hair off his forehead entirely. “It’s time for me to go. Conan was promised _The Tonight Show_ —er, Room 1135, and I will ensure that he gets it.”

Andy raised an eyebrow at Jay’s mix-up, but before he could speak Jay spoke. “Okay, sometimes I accidently slip into the delusion but I can pull myself out of it.” Andy nodded, a bit doubtful, and Jay continued. “Of course, the decision was made without my input but that didn’t make me bitter. It didn’t,” Jay said, trying to convince himself more than Andy.

“It doesn’t matter because I’m better now. I’m cured!” Jay exclaimed, and the words echoed across the pond. Jay stared out at the pond, briefly lost in thought, before jerking his head towards Andy. Desperation was in his eyes. “I am cured, right?”

Andy kept his eyes downcast as he figured out what to say. Remeeting Jay’s eyes he replied, “You’re in better condition than anyone with your delusion that I’ve seen.” Andy knew he didn’t actually answer Jay’s question, he just didn’t know the answer, not yet anyway. Apparently Jay thought it was enough.

“Good!” Jay smiled, his happiness shining through his eyes. He turned back to look at pond, and explained, “I started coming here after I signed the 2004 contract to think things through. I was angry then, but I’m not now. Now I just hope that Conan will keep the show on top of the ratings like I have.”

Andy didn’t bother to correct him. Judging by the glassy eyed look Jay was sporting it looked the time for Jay to come back to reality had passed. So they both just sat there, staring at the pond. During the silence Andy figured out exactly what he needed to do. It might not be the best thing for Jay, Conan or even NBC, but it was the best he could do in this messed up situation. All Andy could hope for is that this won’t blow up in his face later.

“Jay! What the hell are you doing here? I told you to wait for me!”

Dr. Kevin Eubanks’ voice broke Andy’s train of thought. Jay grinned beside him and stood up. “I guess I have to go now,” Jay said as he extended his hand towards Andy. “I’ll see you again when Conan moves to Los Angeles?” Andy shook Jay’s had despite not knowing what the hell he was talking about. He still must be in his delusion.

Jay walked up to Eubanks, and Kevin looked beyond Jay to see if anyone was with him. Andy ducked behind the oak tree just in time for Kevin to miss him. “Hey Kevin, how’re you doing?” Jay said good-naturedly despite the fact that Eubanks was glaring at him.

“I’ve told you time and time again Jay, don’t come walking here alone!”

“There’s nothing to worry about!” Jay complained. “I came here alone, and I’m fine. What’s the big deal?” Andy couldn’t believe Jay lied for him, but he couldn’t question it now.

As Eubanks chided Jay Andy managed to sneak around them and found the path back towards the NBC building. His mind was made up now, and this evening he planned to act.

 

At 10:00 pm sharp, when NBC closed, Andy made his way to Dr. Zucker’s office, hopefully for the last time. He had made his decision on whether or not he’ll sign for Conan’s transfer a long time ago, but he had to be sure that he was doing the right thing. 

His certainty began to deteriorate after he left the NBC garden. He had chosen the option that would cause the least immediate harm to everyone involved. He didn’t know it’s long term effects, and that was what was making him anxious. But the only way to know for sure is to go through with it.

Andy finally arrived at Zucker’s office. After taking a deep breath he opened the door. Zucker looked up, not at all surprised, Andy has been coming by his office after-hours two days in a row by then. “What can I do for you?” Zucker asked.

“I want to sign the papers, right now,” Andy demanded, wanting it all to be over as soon as possible.

Zucker raised an eyebrow, and grinned. “Finally made up your mind?”

Andy nodded curtly as Zucker searched through the piles of papers on his desk and pulled out some for Andy to sign. As Andy quickly signed the documents where Zucker indicated, Zucker fiddled with his thumbs, suddenly losing his confidence. “Andy?” Zucker asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Andy responded, completely engrossed in signing the papers.

“I want to offer you a job,” Zucker began.

Andy’s eyes quickly glanced up to Zucker, curious, before looking down at the papers again.

Zucker frowned slightly, disappointed that he didn’t get Andy’s full attention. Then he grinned, knowing that what he going to say next would. “I want you to be Mr. O’Brien’s doctor.”

Andy looked up sharply, papers forgotten. “What?”

“I—want—you—to—be—Mr. O’Brien’s—doctor,” Dr. Zucker repeated slowly, enjoying Andy’s look of astonishment. 

“What about Max?” Andy asked, unwilling to believe Zucker’s request..

“He suggested this in the first place!” Zucker said. “He willing to become your assistant doctor if you’re willing to take the job.”

“But why?” Andy said. “Why would Max want to demote himself like this?” 

“Because he thinks you can deal with Conan better than he can,” Dr. Zucker said. “Or at least that’s what he told me when he brought this up.” Zucker glanced at Andy, who looked thoughtful. “So, are you going to take the job?”

On one hand, having this job meant that he could help Conan with this transfer and maybe even avoid any potential disasters that may arise.On the other hand, if a disaster did happen then he was stuck here, forced to deal with everything as it comes. When he looked at it like that, the answer was obvious.

Andy looked at Dr. Zucker and gave him a broad smile. “You know what? I will.”


End file.
